What etched itself deepest about the Duskmoon Empire was its army, a fivefold iron tide at its peak.

Any one banner could drown a hard-bitten mid-sized nation like a flood.

The Blood Clan’s bloodlust turned them into a scythe through wheat, bright under storm-light.

Before a disciplined Blood Clan legion, even an adult dragon folded its wings and hid its fire like a mountain sheltering a spark.

When Yuqiu became queen, she steadied the realm with those steel rivers, like banks restraining a flood.

But Yuqiu was neither pure-blood Vampire nor pure-blood Blood Elf, a half-moon in a cloudy sky.

She could not fully command those legions, as reins slip in rain.

Such powerful troops bowed to bloodline suppression, a chain of ancestry coiled like a serpent.

Luckily, the pure-blood Vampire royal lines were nearly graves and ashes, silent as winter fields.

If an ambitious Vampire King’s house had seized those armies, the continent would’ve burned again like dry grass.

At that thought, curiosity fluttered in Tangxue like a moth to a lantern.

She turned like a leaf in wind toward Qianyue. Qianyue, if that First Prince hadn’t died, what would the continent be now?

Hunger hit Qianyue first, a cold wind gnawing her belly like wolves.

She curled into the corner, arms around her stomach like a small shell.

If she didn’t force it down, her belly would call out like a drum.

Still, when her sister asked, she answered, voice thin as mist. Dunno…

Is the army really that strong? This mural talks like a god-sent thunderbolt.

It acts like every other powerhouse on this plane is just there for show, like painted guards.

Tangxue eyed the mural of soldiers besting a dragon, doubt heavy as rain.

Sister… if you knew armies even a little, you wouldn’t think that, Qianyue said, steady as candlelight.

Thousands of years ago, the military forged ways to weave many people’s mana into one strand, like braiding rivers.

They call that weave the phalanx, a square that moves like a single beast.

Different phalanxes bloom differently, like patterns on frost.

One kind pours most of the army’s mana into a few, like funnels catching rain.

Another pools everyone’s mana together for united attack and defense, a shield-wall and a tide.

What branded me most was the phalanx that gathers all mana, then redistributes it evenly, like wind scattering seeds.

It’s not just sum and divide, not chalk on a slate, she said, eyes dark as a well.

After that even split, every soldier stands stronger than before by at least twice, like iron quenched in flame.

Maybe top-tier combatants stay rare, stars in a winter sky.

But never underestimate an army’s strength, a mountain that walks.

Even so, Tangxue’s heart resisted armies, like a cat bristling at thunder.

That resistance rose from the root, deep as old pine.

Seeing her sister’s half-believing look, Qianyue sighed, a silk thread in the wind.

She’d said what she could; belief wasn’t hers to command, like water in cupped hands.

After a short rest, Tangxue stood and took up that eerie divine sword, a crescent of cold light.

She traced the strange patterns on its blade, lines like crawling vines.

A bloodthirsty urge surged from her depths like a red tide.

She pressed it down like snow over embers.

Compared to the storms she’d held back before, this was a tenth at most, a breeze in a hollow.

Qianyue, let’s break the seal over the imperial capital, she said, voice like a bell in the fog.

Qianyue sat perched on the floor, knees together like a little bird on a branch.

Hearing her sister, she answered, soft as a feather. Mm~

Qianyue, what’s wrong? Why sit on the floor like cold stone? Tangxue’s brow curved like a bow.

Sister, Qianyue’s fine, she said with a smile stiff as dried paint.

Stare— their gazes locked like crossed swords.

Tangxue blinked out of the air and appeared by her side, then pinched her cheeks like kneading dough.

Feeling the little >_< protest, Tangxue didn’t stop; her fingers kept working like playful cats.

Cheek-pinching turns addicting, a sugar-slick slope.

Hiding things from me now, are you? Hmm?

Qianyue, you call me sister, yet never treat me as elder.

Her laugh was frosty, a knife wrapped in silk.

Her hands didn’t stop, rain drumming on soft drumskin.

Qianyue’s face was soft and springy, like tofu under warm water.

Her skin was smooth as jade yet warm, not cool like Tangxue’s moonlit touch.

Pinching Qianyue felt like kneading a little warm slime, pillowy as clouds.

With one hand, she could cup both cheeks from the chin, like holding a peach.

Sensing little resistance, Tangxue grew bolder, a fox in tall grass.

This gentle pinching wasn’t enough; she wanted to knead in earnest, like working dough before dawn.

So this is how fun it is to squish someone’s cheeks, ha ha, she thought, laughter bubbling like a spring.

Her smile climbed like a waxing moon at the edge of her lips.

Gurgle— a sound from below cut through the moment like a pebble in a still pond.

Both of them froze, awkward as statues in rain.

Gurgle… another ripple rolled out, belly loud as a kettle.

…Qianyue? Tangxue’s voice softened like dusk.

Shame flooded Qianyue first, hot as steam, and she buried her face in her arms like an ostrich in sand.

Being hungry isn’t shameful, but that gurgle felt mortifying, a drum in a shrine.

She wanted a hole to crawl into, a cave of night.

Tangxue stared at the instant ostrich, speechless as stone.

Then she tugged her up with a gentle pull, like lifting reeds.

So you were just hungry. I thought something happened, she sighed, breath like wind over tea.

She reached into her tiny pocket and pulled out a cup far too big for it, like a rabbit from a hat.

She handed the cup over with a casual flick, like tossing a plum. Here, Qianyue, drink first.

If it’s not enough, I’ll make more.

But my blood isn’t that tasty, and heating it is a hassle, like boiling snow.

After that, Tangxue ignored Qianyue’s complicated, slightly moved gaze, like twilight over ripples.

She plunged her small hand back into her pocket, searching like a sparrow pecking seeds.

Qianyue held the cup in both hands, trembling like leaves, but her eyes never left Tangxue, bright as twin rubies.

Feelings flickered there, attachment like ivy and perhaps love like spring rain.

She sighed after a long breath, then drank the liquid slowly, like sipping moonlight.

This time, drinking liquid laced with her sister’s blood left no side effects, quiet as snow.

She was far stronger now than that tiny self from before, a sapling grown to young pine.

After a big cup, she still wanted more, lips licking like a cat tasting cream.

Power surged inside, flushing her face like wine.

When she looked at Tangxue’s pale, smooth neck, an urge leaped up like a spark to tinder.

Unaware, Qianyue leaned closer, and her little fangs slid into view like crescent thorns.

Sis smells so sweet— I want to nuzzle… just nuzzle… won’t bite… like brushing petals.

She rested her cheek on Tangxue’s soft shoulder, a pillow of clouds.

Her small tiger teeth lined up with what she thought was the softest spot, a dew-touched hollow.

…? While she searched her pocket, Tangxue felt a cool touch like a drop of rain and shivered.

(Still too late… already the second day,) she thought, regret passing like a gull’s shadow.